Where were you in 1991?

February 11th, 1990

Suffered slightly this morning after last night’s rumfest with Florence’s but no regrets! I feel I can talk to Florence about pretty much anything, with no fear of her judging me. Don’t get me wrong, she voices her opinion and doesn’t always agree with me but she does it in a way that makes me feel like she “gets me.” I think that’s a really important part of a great friendship.

“Have you heard from Jean Jacques?”

“No, I thought he might ring to see if I got home ok but nothing so far.”

“What about the other Jack?”

“London Jack?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nothing from him either, which is baffling because we had so much fun the last time we saw each other.”

“And that wasn’t that long ago.”

“No, it wasn’t but I do remember when we were talking about my job, he said he thought he’d find it difficult going out with someone who’s always going away.”

“Maybe that’s it.”

“Who knows, I’m not going to worry about it. There’s plenty more fish in the sea!”

“Ah, fish,” she sighed.

I laughed. “The sort of stuff you don’t have to worry about.”

She gave me a questioning look.

“Being married and all that. You and Morris are so lucky.”

“Compromise. There’s a word for you to remember in the future.”

I laughed. “I don’t think I’m very good at it.”

“You’re still young, when you meet the right person you’ll be willing to do stuff you never thought you would.”

“Oh, I don’t like that sound of that,” I joked.

“I’m sure you compromised with Ben through the years.”

“Hmmm, no, I think I just gave in to him.”

“Then he’s not the one for you,” she said, draining the last of the rum from her glass.

“It’s funny you should bring his name up, just last night I had a vivid dream about…”

“Sorry,” she said, “hold it right there while I got for a wee and get us refill.”

A few minutes later, Florence returned with drinks, filled to the brim.